


That boy is a monster

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blood, Gen, Meta, Violence, happy birthday hisoka, ishida oneshot based, vague fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:59:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7108045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even monsters have their origins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That boy is a monster

_That boy is a monster._

Hushed whispers fell like leaves but with none of the softness, trickling down around Hisoka’s ears. He smiled, tight and quietly. Their intent colored the air and he knew that whatever they were planning, it would be tonight that they saw it through.

Maybe he had gone a little too far this time, he thought, watching the dried blood flake off his fingernails and disappear into the lush grass below.

Maybe they just didn’t understand the trials and tribulations of being young. The thought made him laugh and out of the corners of his eyes, he could see them all flinch back as if burned.

Rising to his feet with a measured little spring, Hisoka spun on his heel to meet the eyes that averted far too slowly to be anything but watching.

“I’m very sorry for my actions,” he said with a smile, doing as his mother had always taught him when he felt the collective weight of society’s noose dangle a little too close, “but it was self-defense.”

One look told him they didn’t buy it, but the fear on their faces was still enough to keep him smiling.

The elder of the caravan stepped up, her shaking hand held firmly to the butt of her staff. When he was younger, he remembered looking up at her with wide, careful eyes. Now, he looked down, realizing just how frail she was; how frail they all looked hiding behind her wizened form.

“Hisoka,” she said gravely, looking him in the eye, her wrinkled lips tight. “There is nothing he could have done to warrant this.”

Hisoka raised a brow and blew a bubble with his gum, too use to the stale taste to bother frowning. Through the looming mob he could just make out the splattered remains of what used to be the man. Gore still stained his sleeves, but he knew how to get them out. Mother was a thorough teacher.

“He shoved me,” Hisoka offered, going back to picking at the blood caked into his nail beds. It would never come out unless he really scrubbed, but the nearest river was an hour walk from the camp.

A quiet murmur, low and panicked, spread through the masses and Hisoka only looked up when the elder took a shuddering breath, her exhale weak, like a death rattle.

His eyes went a bit wide when she lifted her hand and four of the strongest men rose up behind her, their intent obvious, even at this distance.

Hisoka cocked his head and shifted on his feet, his bubble popping with a sharp snap. “Oh?” he laughed, meeting all of their eyes, one by one. “What’s this?”

“Your mother isn’t here any longer to protect you,” the elder intoned, her voice hardened with an iron-like quality that didn’t suit her. “If there is a cancer in the body, it must be excised.”

“And I’m cancer?” he asked, his hand falling to his hip.

The elder’s eyes went wide with something, her fear showing through.

“No,” she managed. “You’re something else entirely.”

And just like that, they attacked.

Hisoka sighed and braced himself, readying himself for the weapons and blows. There were too many to take on bare handed, but he clawed and tore, contorting to dodge and maiming as he went. A scream tore the air as he ripped out an eye and he grunted as a club bashed into his shoulder in return, knocking the gum out of his mouth. It hit the dirt, ruined, but he found no time to mourn. The sharp, pointed toe of a boot jammed into the base of his spine and Hisoka went down, blood staining his teeth in a vicious smile.

Blackness fluttered across his vision like the wings of moths behind the thin tent screen and he dragged his bloody nails through the dirt. It would cake and remain, his mother’s long dead voice supplied in his mind, if he didn’t scrub them properly.

“Leave….go,” the elder’s voice came, flickering in and out of his comprehension like a dying fire.

He could hear enough to tell him that they were leaving. Dust stung his split lip when he grinned into the ground. She didn’t have the mettle to let them kill him.

Even monsters with the face of children still had the face of children.

Darkness enveloped him and he wondered.

What happens to monsters left on their own? 

**Author's Note:**

> woot its short but its fun i think. ill have my other bday present fic up tomorrow probably, ive got a lot of homework i should be doing right now.


End file.
